


the guts to say anything

by Spencer_Grey



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Alex needs a hug, Anxiety, F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 01, You can drag smart!reggie out of my cold dead hands, You can't change my mind, carrie and alex have so much power, luke and reggie are good friends, they're just dumb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27189106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spencer_Grey/pseuds/Spencer_Grey
Summary: “I’ll do anything for you,” goes both ways, Alex never had any doubt about that, but he’s learning the exact depths it goes. And he isn’t sure how much deeper he can dive.-Caleb offers Alex a simple deal: convince Sunset Curve to join the Hollywood Ghost Club or Willie pays the price.
Relationships: Alex & Carrie Wilson, Alex & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie, Alex/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Comments: 19
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

In the time they’d lived in the Molina house, the phantoms have learned certain rules and etiquettes to keep everything smooth. The empty seat at the dinner table is  _ not  _ a free place for whichever ghost wants to join them. Carlos’ and Ray’s bedrooms are strictly off limits since they don’t know the boys are there. 

As for Julie’s room, unless she’s in there and lets them in, the boys aren’t welcomed. So, now, Alex knocks, hoping she’ll let him in because there’s something going on that’s  _ much  _ more important than her boundaries. 

He hears her muffled voice call, “Come in.”

Stepping through Julie’s closed door, Alex is equally enamoured and annoyed at what he finds. 

From where he sits on the ground, leaning against the side of Julie’s bed, Luke whines, “Julie won’t pay attention to me.”

Engrossed in some scattered notebooks around her, Julie doesn’t look up as she retorts, “I have homework.”

“It’s called multitasking.”

Julie gently smacks the top of Luke’s head with her book. She looks up at Alex, pleading with him, “Get him out, please?”

Luke gasps dramatically in mock offence. “Alex, why is she so mean to me?”

Alex looks between them, a fond smile spreading across his face. As much as he enjoys watching them interact, this new found sense of playful adoration they have, he also loves ruining it. 

“Well,” he starts, unable to not notice that--despite her exasperation--Julie is sitting as close to Luke as she can be, “while you two were up here being idiots, Reggie is downstairs trying to haunt Tia Victoria, and Carlos is egging him on." 

There’s a beat of silence. Alex can see them registering his words but once they do, it’s like they’re put into fast forward. Julie and Luke both leap up, pounding for the door to be the first one to yell at Reggie. 

Pleased with himself, Alex follows slowly. He’s barely halfway down the stairs when he hears a combination of voices yelling over each other--Victoria screaming about the demons in the house, Julie attempting to calm her down, Luke calling Reggie an idiot, and, underneath it all, Reggie and Carlos laughing at the chaos unfolding. 

Hovering on the last step--unwilling to get dragged into this, he did his part by alerting Julie and Luke--Alex is content to watch them, preferring to be an observer. He’s never considered himself a man of action. But, and this is likely just over thinking, looking for meaning where it’s not as he tends to do, it’s probably from the years being behind his drums. 

Separated, in a sense, from everything and everyone else. 

A sudden squawk of offence pulls Alex from his thoughts. Luke is currently dragging Reggie away from Carlos, who flashes Reg a thumbs up, though he’s facing almost the completely opposite direction. 

Alex almost laughs at how he somehow manages to be so pensive amongst this stupidity. 

It doesn’t matter now, though. Luke’s shooting him a pleading look and Alex sighs, joining in the effort to pull Reggie far away from the mess for him to admit defeat and go freely into Julie’s room. 

As they’re ascending the staircase, Julie says to her aunt, “We don’t need an exorcist, Tia, it was just Carlos messing around. Isn’t that right?”

Alex can  _ feel _ the heat in Julie’s glare, silently thanking the kid for being smart enough to agree with her. 

“Uh, yeah,” Carlos says. “Just a prank. I got you so good, you should see your face.”

Alex doesn’t hear the rest of that conversation as they finally reach Julie’s bedroom. Luke shoves Reggie a shove, a little more forcibly than needed, but he doesn’t seem to mind, still laughing to himself. 

Only a few moments later, Julie storms in, closing the door softly behind her. Instantly, she locks eyes with Reggie across the room, and the atmosphere suddenly becomes thick with tension.

“Hey, Julie,” Reggie says sweetly, giving a small wave despite the powerful glare being thrown his way. 

“What was  _ that _ ?” she demands, her voice firm but low so no one else hears her. “Tia’s been trying to get us to move for a year now, haunting her is  _ not  _ helping.”

Alex subtly steps back, not wanting to be in Julie’s line of sight. He has to give Reggie credit for his refusal to back down, even against Julie’s  _ not-really-angry _ anger. Alex wouldn’t dare and Luke’s face says he’s done it before and never again. 

“Come on, Jules,” Reggie complains. “I’m so bored, me and Carlos were just having fun.”

Julie sighs, flopping back onto her bed to lean against the headboard. “If you’re so bored, you can hang out here, where I can see you. But just let me get my homework done.”

“Oh, do you want some help?” he asks. 

“You don’t really want to do that.”

Luke says, “When someone offers to help with your homework, you take it, Jules.” He takes the moment of distraction to grab her notebook, effortlessly bringing it out of her reach before she can take it back. Skimming through the pages, Luke screws up his nose. “Gross. It’s math.”

Snatching the book back, Julie remarks, “Told you so.”

Alex rolls his eyes and settles on the edge of the bed. He looks through the books, flashes of high school coming back to him--most he’d rather not remember. “I’m sure three dropouts can do  _ one  _ math problem.”

Reggie comes to sit cross legged at the foot of the bed, taking Julie’s textbook, finds the right page, and is strangely quiet as he reads through it. Alex won’t comment on it, returning his attention back to Julie, a flash of hurt crossing her face. 

“You guys dropped out?” she asks, looking between her boys. 

Luke shrugs, returning to his spot on the ground. “Well, yeah, we decided to focus on the band. School just got in the way.”

“There’s that, and then there’s the fact--” 

A pillow slams into Alex’s face, knocking him back before he has the genius thought to let it pass through him. Picking it up from the ground, Alex throws it back to Luke, who ducks. 

“What?” Alex says, feigning innocence. 

“Dude,” Luke says sternly. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Julie asks. 

Alex dodges another pillow. “What happened to no lying? It’s only Julie.”

She manages to catch the next pillow that goes flying for Alex’s head. “Okay, someone’s gonna tell me what’s going on or  _ I’m  _ gonna start throwing things.”

In an act of perfect timing, Reggie tunes back into the conversation. He passes back Julie’s notebook as he asks, “Are we talking ‘bout how Luke dropped out after running away?”

Alex can’t help but smirk, hearing two very different, “ _ Oh _ my god,” at the sheer bluntness and obliviousness that encapsulates Reggie. For Alex, it’s rather entertaining. For Luke, it’s mortifying, and as for Julie, her face just screams a very sarcastic “ _ is that so _ ?”

Before she can properly say anything, Luke is quick to jump onto the defense. “Technically, okay,  _ technically _ that  _ was  _ to focus on the band. So, therefore… I’m sorry?”

In the moment of silence as Julie struggles to find the right words to chew Luke out, Alex throws a glance towards Reggie, finding a pleased smile on his face. Maybe the candid admission was more deliberate than he originally thought.

As if reading his mind, Reggie winks to Alex. 

He looks back to the couple still in a silent stare down. Alex loves the little fights between them--they never last long, are never truly heated, they supply ammunition to tease Luke with, and always end with Julie rolling her eyes or smiling fondly at the idiot. This feud is no different. 

Doing both, Julie looks down at the notebook Reggie had used, her brow furrowing in confusion. She pulls the hefty textbook into her lap, flipping to the back where the answers are kept.

“What’s the point of even trying if all the answers are right there?” Luke points out, a slight pout returning to his lips now that Julie isn’t paying attention to him again. 

Alex sighs, having heard this a million times before. “So you know you’re doing it right.”

With a challenging look, he replies, “When was the last time you’ve used math?”

“Fair point.”

“Reggie,” Julie says, looking at the bass player in amazement, “did you just do all these?”

Getting a look at what’s gotten her so surprised, Alex finds the entire page filled with Reggie’s scribbled handwriting, a combination of letters and numbers that make Alex want to cry, but the half dozen equations seem correct. 

Alex remembers when he and Luke found out about this little superpower Reggie has. They each had an equally shocked look on their faces at the discovery.

Reggie shrugs. “Yeah, uh, number four was a little hard but I got there.”

“But they’re all  _ right _ .”

“Why does everyone get so surprised by that? I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

Julie lets out a disbelieving scoff. “I just-- I didn’t know you were this smart.”

After checking that Reggie’s small smile is more pride than anything else, Alex says to Julie, his tone light and playful, “Neither did any of his teachers.”

“They all thought he was cheating,” Luke finishes. 

“It’s amazing. Hey, Reggie, can you help me study? I have this test that I can’t fail.”

Reggie’s entire face lights up, beaming as he shuffles closer to Julie. Their heads bow together, resting against each other in a comfortable intimacy as Reggie, with the intelligence of a college student and the vocabulary of a middle schooler, explains all the concepts that neither Luke or Alex have ever heard before. 

At least now, Luke is less upset by the lack of attention--happily watching for whenever Julie’s face shines with understanding, always there to congratulate her for figuring out something new. 

It’s easy to just exist here, Alex thinks.

\--

As much as Alex would’ve enjoyed passing over, hopefully into whatever degree of Heaven he deserves, he doesn’t mind this--this part way alive, part way dead thing he and the guys have going on. 

He likes hanging out with his friends, playing their music, he especially likes being able to see Willie when he can sneak away from Caleb, and, above all, he loves being corporeal. Even if it’s only to Julie. 

This recent development has worked out well for everyone. Those twenty-five years spent in that dark room--where he wasn’t crying the  _ entire  _ time--all seem worth it now that he can wrap his arms around Julie whenever he wants, can tuck his chin over her head, feel her heartbeat against his still chest. 

To their credit, Luke and Reggie always have indulged Alex with all his touch starved tendencies; bumping their shoulders together as they walk, resting an arm on his shoulder. Casual things. But Julie is almost as expressive as Alex, holding his hand whenever she can, resting her head on his shoulder, running her soft hands through his hair as he lays his head in her lap.

Even if Alex doesn’t have a beating heart anymore, he still feels the phantom flutter in his chest whenever they lay like this, the couch in the studio under him.

For a moment, Julie’s fingers stop their gentle massage and Alex’s eyes slowly open, letting a pout form on his lips. He can only see the bottom of her jaw, her attention elsewhere. 

Alex turns his head, finding Reggie and Luke with their faces smoothed in concentration, respective guitars in their hands. The late morning sun is peeking through the window behind them, casting over them. Alex will never  _ not _ be in awe of how effortlessly they move together, complimenting each other’s music. 

Looking back up at Julie, he can make out the curve of a soft smile on her lips, eyes lighting up as she bobs her head along to the sound. 

After a moment, she catches Alex’s gaze. Her voice is warm and quiet as she asks, “Why aren’t you up there with them?”

He makes a noncommittal hum. “I like watching. Plus, you’re comfortable.”

Julie laughs, returning to massaging his scalp. “I’m glad to be of use.”

The longer he stays like this, the more Alex wishes ghosts could sleep. At the very least, float somewhere a little less conscious. One of the few things he misses about being alive is being able to pass out for twelve hours straight, and not think or more or have to do  _ anything _ . 

Asleep, he wouldn’t have to deal with the sudden screech of an amp’s feedback directly in his ear. 

Alex jumps, falling off the couch and onto the hard ground. 

Glaring, he finds Luke in front of him, moving the amp back onto the ground as Alex picks himself up. 

“What was that for?” he snaps, pretending he doesn’t hear Julie snicker behind him. 

Luke has a shit-eating grin seemingly glued onto his face, impressed by himself, and he doesn’t even look at Alex as he says, “Your boyfriend’s here.”

“He’s not my--Willie, hey.”

Finally noticing him, hovering sheepishly at the studio doors, all the annoyance quickly leaves Alex’s body as he practically melts when he meets Willie. 

Willie grins, soft and blinding and gentle, and tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. “Hey,” he says before turning his attention onto Luke and Reggie. “Mind if I steal him for a bit?”

“Hmm, I dunno.” Reggie makes a face--one that makes Alex roll his eyes. 

“Yeah, me neither,” Luke says. “Julie? You think Willie can take our dear Alex out?” He repeats the question for her, remembering she can’t actually see any ghosts other than them. 

She pretends to contemplate it, if only to annoy Alex further. “Have him home by seven and not a minute later. And no funny business, mister.” She points a finger at Willie, or at least where she estimates he is next to Alex. 

Somewhere between embarrassed and exasperated, Alex mutters into Willie’s ear, “I’m so sorry about them.”

But he doesn’t seem to mind the theatrics, he just laughs and takes Alex’s hand. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Willie promises. “Let’s go.”

Alex manages to say, “You guys are so weird,” just before Willie poofs them away. 

They appear on the beachfront, along a walkway that travels the length of the ocean, and amongst the bustling crowd passing around them. Ignoring the weird tingle he gets every time he teleports, Alex never takes his eyes off Willie--despite the almost overwhelming array of sights and sounds bombarding him. He’s never been much of a fan of cities, anyway. 

“So, what’re we doing?” Alex asks, not needing anything more than a tug on his hand to start walking with Willie. 

Willie doesn’t answer straight away. There’s a slight pinch to his brow but it disappears as Alex rubs his thumb over his hand. He turns to Alex, his eyes softening. 

“It’s a surprise,” he says. “Have some patience, hotdog.”

Rolling his eyes at the nickname, Alex can’t help himself from grinning stupidly, unable to stop the endearment that fills his heart. 

As they walk, the crashing waves on the shore are just far away enough to serve as a gentle background noise. The only thing Alex really cares to hear, anyway, is Willie’s voice, his soft chuckles, even the smallest sigh when Alex blurts out, “Tell me about yourself.”

Willie’s shoulders deflate, only noticeable because Alex is always observing. “Oh, um, nah, we--we don’t need to. I like hearing you talk.”

Alex frowns. “Please? I feel like I know nothing about you.”

As Willie speaks, there’s an apprehension to his tone, a caution that Alex knows he should tread lightly with. “What do you want to know?”

“Uh--any siblings?” A light topic, Alex hopes. 

“An older sister. We weren’t that close or anything but…” Willie trails off, his eyes narrowing as if inspecting a long forgotten memory. He adjusts his grip on Alex’s hand. “You would’ve liked her. You two are actually pretty similar.”

“Really? The question is, would she like me?”

Needing to think on that for a moment, Willie grins, any tension leaving him as he lets out a small chuckle. “Ah, probably not. She didn’t like many people, to be fair. She only tolerated me at the best of times.”

Before Alex can even open his mouth to respond, a small child--in a mad dash to escape her parents--runs straight through him, sending his intangible form into weird ripples. Sucking in a sharp breath at the uncomfortable feeling, Alex only needs to hear Willie laugh to get over it. 

Ever since they met, the only thing Alex ever needed, ever wanted, to hear was Willie--his soft voice, his teasing laughter. And like every time is the first time, it makes his ghost heart ache with tenderness. 

Alex looks over his shoulder as the girl continues her path, giddy with freedom, and he goes to make a comment about it when, without warning, he’s tugged to the side. 

Pulled closer towards Willie just as the girl’s parents chase after her, narrowly avoiding him. Willie’s free hand had found its way to the small of Alex’s back, holding him steady. Firmly. 

That ghost heart of his, the stillness in his chest, beats like roaring thunder, screaming with years of repressed and neglected want, driven wild with need. The still functioning part of his brain tells him he could have it, finally, if he were to just--

Alex leans in. Feels Willie’s lips against his own, soft and sweet, and they push back against his with just as much fervour and desperation. 

If Alex wasn’t already dead, he could swear this is heaven, all he’s ever wanted. Like he’s floating, the earth slipped from under him, and he’ll never find the ground again. 

After an eternity, still not long enough, nowhere close, Alex pulls back, realising his eyes had closed on their own accord. His hands were cupping Willie’s hip bones without prompting. The hand not around Alex’s back is framing his cheek now, as Willie’s eyes slowly flutter open. 

Breathless and warm and understanding every long song with startling clarity, Alex swallows. And waits for Willie to make the next move. There’s a long pause, complete silence other than their racing breaths. 

Eventually, Willie mutters, low and gravelly, “Wow, hotdog, I was starting to think you never would.”

“One of us had to.” Alex is just as surprised with himself, too, he never thought he had that kind of courage in him. 

“My surprise doesn’t seem as cool now,” Willie teases. 

“Didn’t mean to upstage you.”

He shrugs. “I guess I’m okay with it. As long as you surprise me more often.”

And with that little comment, what little charm and smoothness Alex had falls away as his mind completely malfunctions at the mere  _ idea  _ of kissing Willie again. Seeing his mild panic, Willie’s smile turns into a smirk, proud of himself. 

Unable to respond to that, Alex starts walking again, their hands finding each other again. 

The walkway stretches as far as Alex can see, various stores and people passing them as they continue. 

Still high off that little kiss, Alex hardly notices that Willie’s leading him to the side, down a flight of stairs, and into a skatepark. But once he realises where they are, he understands what Willie’s surprise is. 

His skateboard appears in his hands, cracked helmet too. His eyes dancing with mirth, he holds the items out to Alex. 

Hesitantly, Alex takes the board. “Really?”

“You said you wanted to learn,” Willie says. 

“I have  _ never _ said that,” he shoots back quickly.

Willie pauses. “Okay, you didn’t,  _ but _ I wanna teach you. It’ll be fun.” He smacks the helmet onto Alex’s head, fingers delicately brushing against his skin as he buckles it. 

Alex can’t say no to him, to the pure excitement on his face. So instead of protesting, he says, “Pretty sure I don’t need the helmet, though.”

“You don’t,” Willie replies. “But it’s more for comfort than anything. Kind of like a placebo. You’re not afraid of getting hurt so you’ll have more confidence.”

“I’m always afraid of getting hurt.”

“Don’t be. I’ll keep you safe.”

As reluctant as he is, Alex gets on the board and  _ refuses  _ to ever let go of Willie’s hands, holding onto him like a lifeline. 

Willie shows him the basics, starting with learning how to simply ride a skateboard, and he cheers and whoops wildly the first time Alex manages to ride for an uninterrupted ten seconds by himself. Alex finds that his delight is infectious. 

Willie takes him to a ramp, a tiny one clearly intended for children but he only shrugs it off when Alex comments on it. 

“Gotta start somewhere,” is all he says. “You didn’t magically know how to play the drums when you first started, did you?”

“I hate it when you’re right,” Alex mutters. 

Teaching Alex must take a miracle amount of patience. Especially as Willie coaches him through dropping in, going through every foot placement, the right mentality. And he must be a good teacher, Alex only falls the first dozen or so times. 

By the time Alex can drop into the bowl without freaking out and Willie’s voice must be aching from how much he’s been cheering, he finds that the afternoon has passed quickly. The park is mostly empty now, though he wasn’t worried about other people before. 

They sit at the top of the largest ramp there, feet dangling over the edge. Alex doesn’t think what he says is all that funny but Willie laughs like it’s the most hilarious thing he’s ever heard--he always seems to think like that. 

“So, hotdog, was that as bad as you thought it would be?” Willie asks. 

Alex tries looking at him but is greeted by the low afternoon sun, blinding him. Without prompting, Willie adjusts his head to shield him from the light, letting Alex see his equally blinding beauty. 

He doesn’t know why such a small action makes him want to kiss Willie all over again. 

Alex sighs, admitting defeat. “It was a lot of fun.”

“Good,” he says, smiling softly. “We can come back later and I’ll show you some tricks.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Of course.”

Willie leans in first this time, his lips barely brushing against Alex’s until he closes the gap. It’s brief, shorter than the last time, but no amount of time will ever feel like enough to Alex. Their foreheads rest together as they simply breathe in each other’s space. It’s peaceful, the most relaxed Alex has known in a while. 

Until the tedious calm is broken. 

“I need to get going,” Willie says, “before Ca--before someone notices I’m not there.” He stands up, offering a hand down to Alex. 

Alex hates this part, hates that their time is so limited. But he wraps his arms around Willie without complaint, hugging him tightly, trying to commit this feeling to memory. 

When he pulls back, Alex forces a tight smile. “See you soon.”

Willie poofs away, leaving Alex at the top of the ramp alone. He lingers there a moment longer before appearing down at the beachfront. He joins the still large crowd going about their business.

He much prefers walking home rather than teleporting everything. It gives him time to breathe, time that he’s under no obligation to do anything, really, and not even his stupid anxiety can make him feel guilty for it. 

After just over an hour, the Molina house comes into sight, the sun gently setting behind him. As he nears the studio, he can make out the distant buzz of a lively conversation. 

Alex doesn’t blink twice when he sees Nick coming up the path. The kid’s been hanging out with Julie a little more often recently.

Offhandedly, Alex greets him as they pass, uncaring that he won’t get a response. 

“Hello, Alex.”

Alex freezes mid-step. 

He almost didn’t process that, almost ignored it. He whips his head around to face the other boy. Looking Nick up and down, more confused than he’s ever been, Alex feels a sickening twist in his gut. 

It’s not possible for another lifer to see him. Unless he’s  _ not  _ a lifer.

“You--you’re  _ dead _ ?” 

Nick chuckles. “Try again.”

Alex goes to ask what the hell he’s talking about, to stumble through a horrible realisation, when  _ something _ strikes him. Some indefinable feeling. But whatever it is...it’s familiar. Something powerful, arrogant, something distinctly--

“Caleb.” Alex pales. “How?  _ Why _ ?”

Nick-- _ Caleb _ shrugs, completely unbothered. “Why not? As for how, it was easy, really. Possession is the oldest trick in the book, everyone knows that.”

Alex glances over his shoulder, knowing his friends would hear him if he called out. The studio is almost painfully close. 

Following his gaze, Caleb shakes his--Nick’s--head, making a sound of disapproval. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I have something you’ll be interested in,” he says.

“Why should I listen to you?” Alex demands, when he should be running, should be calling for help, but he’s glued here. He takes a minuscule step backwards only for Caleb to match it. 

“Willie, of course.”

Alex clenches his jaw, trying to keep his face utterly neutral by Caleb’s smirk, he fails. 

“That’s what I thought,” he says smugly. “You know, souls are delicate things. It’s far too easy to just  _ slip _ and poor little Willie could cease to exist. I do hope you see where I’m going with this.”

“What do you want?”

The words fall from his mouth before he even understands what he’s offering, what is being threatened. Because it doesn’t matter, not in comparison to how his heart dropped as Willie’s name left the man’s tongue, not compared to the horror flooding his system. 

But in the same breath, Alex knows  _ exactly  _ what he’s offering, knows the depth of what he’ll give. 

Caleb nods, the thin curl of his lips vanishing as he says, “I knew you were the smart one. You see, that little stunt you boys pulled, the whole not dying thing, yeah that--that’s not going to work for me.”

In a quick flash of confidence, Alex says, “What? You’re upset some teenagers bested you?”

Caleb’s eyes burn a bright flame of anger before he reigns it in. 

“Since you’re still new to the whole ghost stuff, let me give you a crash course. I get what I want. Always.” Caleb takes a step closer, his presence overpowering and dominating. Alex struggles not to cower under the sheer weight of his gaze. “And you’re going to get me what I want. You and your band of idiots working for me.”

Alex shakes his head. “They--they’ll never do it. Not after what you did.”

“Then use that charm of yours and convince them. How you do it isn’t my problem. Just remember what--or should I say who is riding on this.”

He can barely think, can barely breathe under the whirling thoughts speeding through his mind, a million different voices all screaming in panic. 

There’s nothing in this world that could make him work for Caleb, let alone drag his friends down with him--he could  _ never _ . There--there’s nothing. Nothing except for Willie. Nothing except for that can make him feel so much with only a smile, with only saying his name. 

He can’t do this but he’ll do anything for Willie. He knew that from the moment it was said to him. 

Amongst Alex’s panic, Caleb fills the silence with, “I might be bluffing but are you ready to risk his  _ soul _ ? Get me Sunset Curve and Willie doesn’t get hurt.”

Alex can’t do this, can’t sell his friends out for some boy. A boy he’s known a few weeks over his best friends--over the only family he has. Is Alex really that selfish?

“Do we have a deal?” Caleb asks, holding out his hand. 

He won’t do it. He can’t. He  _ can’t _ . 

Alex shakes Caleb’s hand.


	2. Chapter 2

In the middle of the night, Alex doesn’t so much  _ wake  _ up as he does become more aware, more alert to an unfamiliar feeling in his stomach, like a tug. A calling. 

He risks a glance towards Luke and Reggie, hoping, begging, that they feel the same thing but he only finds Luke on the couch, eyes closed despite not being able to sleep, and Reggie, a book borrowed from Carlos in his lap, the concentration on his face tells Alex nothing. 

Alex doesn’t want to think about it, tries to push the insistent thought away but there it is again--like someone silently screaming his name. 

He knows what it is, there’s nothing else in the world it could be, he knows  _ who  _ it is. 

He hasn’t exactly told his friends about the previous day, the panic and fear he experienced barely a hundred meters away from them, completely oblivious. Alex knows he should tell them, knows they could help but until he can slow the chaos happening in his mind and actually  _ process _ what he’s done, he’ll carry the weight on his shoulders alone.

Alex won’t drag them into this until he knows he can get them out. 

And until then…

Taking a breath, he says to no one in particular, “I need some air,” knowing that neither of the guys will question it, that they won’t follow him. 

The familiarity they share only now seems like a curse rather than a blessing. 

Alex poofs away, focusing on the pull--wondering just how this kind of ghostly magic works. When he sees exactly where he is, Alex is tempted to leave when he feels  _ his _ presence from behind. 

Caleb stands there, the stage and the rest of the club to his back, looking as smug as ever--and it’s actually  _ Caleb _ this time, not inside Nick’s body. 

“Alex, welcome,” he says cheerfully, “I’m so glad you could make it.”

The most reaction Alex gives is narrowing his eyes, clenching his jaw and squaring his shoulders. He just thinks, holds onto the thought like it alone can get him through this, that no matter what is thrown at him, he won’t let Caleb see it affect him, see it hurt him, 

He’ll swallow his anxiety and panic to get through this. Alex stays silent, waiting for Caleb to spew the monologue he clearly has prepared. 

Caleb steps closer to Alex. “I’ve been thinking--about what you promised me.” Another step. “And I’ve come to a conclusion I hope you’ll like.”

Now, he’s close enough to lay a hand behind Alex’s shoulder blades, weighted and setting his skin on fire. It takes all of him to not flinch away from the touch, sucking in a tight breath. 

Caleb continues as though this is nothing less than a casual conversation, like two friends discussing the weather. 

“So, Alex”--the way he says the drummer’s name will always make him shiver--“I hope you’re not busy tonight because I’ve promised the audience a treat,” he says, his eyes bouncing over Alex’s entire body multiple times before coming to meet his glaring glaze. 

Alex pieces two and two together, a flash of anxiety hitting him. “That wasn’t part of our deal,” he says, hoping the crack of desperation wasn’t as sharp as it sounded to himself. 

“Think of it as a down payment,” Caleb suggests, shrugging, and his hand on Alex’s back starts to push him forward. “Give the crowd a taste of what’s to come, you know.”

Alex bites the inside of his cheek, letting himself be ushered forward. There’s a dangerous flash in Caleb’s eyes despite the always-present half smirk on his lips, reminding Alex he doesn’t have a choice in this. As long as he’s in this mess, he  _ has _ to listen to Caleb, has to act as his pawn. 

As the stage begins rapidly approaching, his anxiety growing just as quickly, Alex tries to protest, “I--I don’t know any songs.”

Caleb waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry, you’ll know when you get up there. Oh, but before you do--” Caleb unclips Alex’s fanny pack and throws it behind them “--it looks ridiculous and you know it.”

Feeling starkly naked without it, Alex doesn’t look up, keeping his gaze firmly on his feet as he tries to keep himself together. 

Caleb leaves him halfway across the stage, greeting the crowd erupting in acclamation and excitement as Alex settles behind the drum kit. Hesitantly, he picks up the awaiting drumsticks, giving the unfamiliar wood a twirl. They’re too coarse, too heavy, for him to pretend they belong to him. 

Caleb’s booming voice, though, manages to pierce through Alex’s clouded mind. 

“Welcome, welcome. Now, tonight, I have a  _ very  _ special surprise for you all,” he says, effortlessly drawing the crowd into an attentive silence. “Something I’ve been looking forward to for such a long time. Our new drummer, Alex from Sunset Curve,  _ finally _ belongs to us.”

He turns his body just enough to put Alex into full view, gesturing towards him. With a couple hundred eyes now glued onto him, onto some kid he’s sure they’ve never heard of before, Alex squirms under the weight of their looks, giving a small, awkward wave despite himself. 

“He’s here all night, ladies and gentlemen and others,” Caleb continues. “So, please, don’t hesitate to request a song. He can play anything.”

Really, he can’t, Alex wants to say. Wants to point out that there’s a very good reason Alex has only ever played with his band. He knows full well that Caleb chose the only member of Julie of the Phantoms that  _ can’t _ carry themselves. 

Well, jokes on him, then, isn’t it? It’s now his problem. 

Caleb laughs, dry and lacking any real humour, as he can probably sense Alex’s discomfort. “Enjoy him,” is all he closes with, stepping off the stage to let Alex take the brunt of the crowd. 

The rest of the band around him looks on expectantly, waiting for him to lead. 

Just as he starts to feel as though he can’t take the tension anymore, just about to crumple, Alex looks down, looks at his hands as they move on their own accord, grip tightening around the drumsticks without his consent. Playing a song Alex has never heard before. 

As the band comes in and takes at least some of the attention away from him, Alex thinks that it’s not  _ that _ bad, not as bad as he’s sure it could be.  Magical drumsticks? Sure. Why not? 

Unable to control himself--not entirely sure if he  _ wants _ to stop, which is a train of thought he  _ won’t _ explore--Alex is forced to play with as much fervor as he can muster, slamming the drums with all the intensity and passion he has. 

He hasn’t played alone. Alex realises the full depth of that fact, he’s never been alone since Sunset Curve was formed, never needed to be alone. It’s uncomfortable, unnatural, to be looking about the stage and finding only strangers. 

He keeps looking over, expecting to find Luke and Reggie sharing a mic--unnecessarily close--or Julie bathing in the spotlight. He’d even take Bobby right now. 

Instead, Alex is up here, alone, playing for a man that is simultaneously afraid of his power and yet still holds  _ all  _ the cards, and Alex is lying to the only family he has left. 

All he wants right now is the room to pace until he can physically shake his thoughts away, maybe go scream in a museum somewhere. And he can’t tell the difference between who’s playing--the magical ghost drumsticks or himself. 

Slowly, painfully slowly, Alex manages to find a way to lose himself in the song, in the dancers, in anything but where he really is and what he’s really doing. 

As soon as the song comes to a close and Alex is allowed a moment to  _ think _ , the crowd cheers, thunderous applause assaulting his ears. From the deepest reaches of his heart, Alex can feel how--how  _ off _ this all is, how fake the crowd feels--nothing like he’s used to. 

He knows why, though, he’d have to be an idiot to not understand that without his band playing with him, music doesn’t have the same sound, doesn’t have the same connection. 

But as his eyes scan the crowd, trying to force himself to appreciate it in the slightest, his gaze lands on the only person who seems genuinely impressed by  _ Alex _ and him alone. 

Willie’s clapping and cheering louder than anyone else in the faceless sea, grinning from ear to ear. 

_ That _ is why he’s here, Alex reminds himself--to keep that smile, to keep that boy with him. And as long as Willie is there to watch him, to act as his one lifeline to sanity, playing at Caleb’s club seems slightly more bearable. 

He just might survive this after all. 

\--

In the days that follow the performance at Caleb’s club, Alex hasn’t been able to shake that feeling--that razor sharp edge between spiraling and crippling anxiety and detached acceptance. The memory lingers in the back of his mind, just close enough for him to be forced to acknowledge its existence. 

He’s reached the point where his brain is simultaneously screaming constantly and utterly blank. 

Alex hates it, hates that every time he sees his friends he can hear the distant smug laugh of Caleb Covington, can feel the twirl of unfamiliar drumsticks between his fingers. Not even the memory of Willie cheering him on can break through the disarray of his thoughts. 

“--totally gone. Not even on this planet.”

Alex blinks, refocusing his vision. The sudden and forceful shift from his thoughts to his surroundings is jarring, disorientating, only made worse by the fact that the first thing his eyes decide to focus on is Luke. 

“Oh, wait,” Luke says, moving about to remain the center of Alex’s gaze as the drummer takes in the entire studio. He needs to be sure he’s really  _ here _ . “I think he’s back.”

After clearing his thought, Alex says, “Sorry, what?”

Reggie laughs. He leaves where he’s resting against the piano to take Luke’s side. “He needs inspiration so we’re going.”

“Going  _ where _ ?”

He shrugs. “Ask him.”

Flashing a mischievous grin, all Luke says to explain is, “We’ll figure it out. Come on.”

Alex hesitates. Really, there’s nothing he wants more than to wallow in his own melancholy and thoughts, hoping that, maybe, he’ll eventually drown under all the pressure placed onto him. But, he knows from all the years of being friends with these two, they’ll never let him. It’s like they can sense him taking a final breath before willingly ducking his head beneath the crashing waves. And they’ll always come, whether they know it or not, to pull him back ashore. 

He’s been trying not to raise any suspicion. Sulking will do the opposite of that. 

“Fine,” Alex says, standing up and joining the boys. 

Alex still isn’t entirely sure how it works--doesn’t know how  _ any  _ ghost ability works--but like when they first appeared in Julie’s garage and Luke took them to the Orpheum, Alex focuses on the singer, focuses on his energy and freely gives up his own. 

They appear on the beach, midday sun and crowds in full force. They’re not far from where Reggie’s house used to be, actually, but they all adamantly refuse to look in that general direction. 

Wordlessly, Luke begins wandering down the hot sand, heading directly for the water. Reggie isn’t far behind him, looking over his shoulder when ALex doesn’t immediately follow. 

“Hurry up, dude,” he calls and there’s something in his grin that snaps Alex from his mind, planting him firmly into the present again. 

Without anything else to do, Alex follows, catching up with Luke--whose eyes are glued onto the approaching ocean, almost challenging in nature. 

Reggie is the first to start pulling off his shoes, ditching his jacket into the sand as the waves become louder, the salty sea spray reaching them now. Luke copies the actions and so does Alex. 

In a silent understanding, the boys start sprinting for the water, bare feet pounding against the wet sand until they crash with oncoming waves, swallowing mouthfuls of seawater in the first few steps. 

Alex doesn’t know what kind of inspiration Luke is hoping to find out here but what he  _ does _ know is that he won’t let Reggie tackle him as he’s trying to do, attempting to dunk the drummer’s head beneath the waves. 

Scrambling and fighting dirty, Reggie manages to get him on the ground, the water is just shallow enough for Alex’s chest to remain above water. That is, until a rogue wave comes from behind him, showering him in saltiness that leaves his eyes burning. 

Reggie’s laughing as Alex splutters but he takes the moment of distraction to wrap his arms around Reg’s waist, taking them both into the water. 

Between groans and laughs, Reggie manages to cry out, “ _ Luke _ , help me!”

Alex hadn’t noticed Luke sneaking up on him, waddling towards him to grab him by the waist and hoist him into the air. 

“Grab his legs, grab his legs,” he calls to Reggie, giddy like a little kid. 

Struggling quickly proves useless but it doesn’t stop Alex from fighting. With his whole body being held up, he thrashes about, mostly trying to free his legs by kicking Reggie.

“Stop it, I hate you, I hate you both,” Alex yells between his laughter and fear. He continues, “You’re dead to be me.  _ Dead _ ,” when he realises they’re carrying him to deeper water. 

“Hey, Reg,” Luke calls over Alex’s fuss. 

“Yeah?”

“You hear something?”

Nah, nothing.”

“You guys  _ suck _ ,” Alex says and means it with everything he has. 

Luke and Reggie stop, the water lapping at their waists and they adjust their grips on Alex. He knows they’re about to start swinging him but in that exact moment, Alex remembers a very important piece of information about himself. 

He’s a ghost. 

He waits, letting the boys count down and on three, as Alex goes flying into the air and is just about to crash into the awaiting water, he poofs away. Giving them no time to react, he reappears behind Luke, pushing him and subsequently Reggie into the cold ocean. 

Luke and Reggie scramble against each other to stand up, coughing and glowering at Alex. Though, he’s more occupied with laughing at the dripping wet boys, he’s near tears. 

With his hair stuck to his forehead, Luke says, “You wanna play that game, huh?”

He vanishes, appearing  _ on _ Alex’s back, gripping onto him like a monkey. Alex tries for a moment to get him off before simply letting his feet slip from under him, falling straight onto his back. 

But before he hits the water, he poofs away, joining Reggie as they watch Luke get himself up again. 

Luke runs for them, as best he can in the water, disappearing and reappearing in a blink. Alex only just manages to move out of the way but Reggie isn’t as lucky, going crashing down as Luke leaps at him. 

Spitting out a mouthful of water, Reggie says, “I didn’t do anything to you.”

Luke shrugs, uncaring. “Every ghost for himself.”

The invitation needed to start an all out brawl. If they weren’t already dead, Alex wouldn’t have been surprised if one of them ended up drowning. 

The usual amount of rationality Alex has goes straight out the window. If he goes down as he body slams Luke into the water, so be it. If he gets a face full of sand for trying to surprise Reggie, that’s just how it goes. 

In the end, with more water in their ghost lungs that air and sand in places sand should  _ never _ be, a truce comes to fruition. Mostly because they’ve all spent their energy and are just trying to keep their own heads above water now. 

Poofing back onto shore, Reggie lays back on the warm sand. Alex takes his side. The sand sticks to his soaking body--and shouldn’t being a ghost come with better advantages, he thinks--and he finds his eyes closing on their own accord. 

“Got your inspiration?” he asks as he feels Luke settle next to him. 

Luke doesn't respond straight away, taking a mental note of something. “No, not yet.”

Reggie groans, though Alex knows he doesn’t actually mind this little excursion. It feels more for Alex’s sake than anything else. “Okay, then, what else?”

“Man, I dunno,” he says with a sigh.

Alex opens his eyes. Luke’s sitting upright, cross legged, and looking down at him. Neither say anything. He’s always liked that about his relationship with Luke--he’s never needed words to talk. 

Hollywood Boulevard appears around them, as silently requested by Alex. 

When they were alive, Luke would always drag them down here, looking for inspiration from the various weirdos and general strangeness of the place. There’s always something happening, never a dull moment. 

They walk the strip, watching the passersby with too close of interest. Alex does at least, wanting to find something for Luke to break his writing blocks with. He just wants to go back home, now, to pace the lengths of the studio until some semblance of a brilliant plan comes to him.

Coming across a band nestled against the side of a building--plastic buckets instead of drums, what looks like a third generation guitar and a lone singer with only herself to project her voice--the boys stop and join the small crowd watching. 

“Wow, they’re really good,” Reggie says as the singer hits a note even Julie would be jealous of. 

Alex replies fondly, “Yeah, better than we were at that point.”

It doesn’t feel that long since they were playing on the sidewalk with Luke’s guitar case open and begging for spare cash, which typically ended up being spent on pizza or sodas from the gas station. 

Following the same train of thought, Luke asks, “How mad would Julie be if we stole her wallet and gave these kids some money?” with the utmost sincerity in his voice that tells Alex it’s taking all of his self control to not act on his impulses. 

“Extremely mad.” Alex doesn’t doubt for a second that if they were to cross  _ that  _ boundary, she’d find a way to kill them, again. “Unbelievably mad.”

“Do it anyway,” Reggie says, face innocently blank even as Alex nudges him with his elbow. 

“Hey, boys,” Luke says, a smile growing on his lips, “remember when we saved up every penny and dime we got just for some guitar strings?”

“I remember how you chose that over buying food,” Alex mutters under his breath, focusing back onto the band but Luke still hears him. 

“To be fair, we got that book club gig  _ because  _ I got new strings. The snacks there were to die for. Pun intended.”

Alex rolls his eyes. Though, Reggie’s little chuckle outweighs the slight flash of annoyance that Alex feels--Luke’s never taken that period of his life all that seriously and he shouldn’t expect that to start now. 

The current song the band is playing comes to a close and the boys move on. Alex could swear a cover of Crooked Teeth is starting to play, growing more and more distant but Luke interrupts him before he can comment on it. 

“Right, I don’t there’s anything left for us here.”

He guides them back home once more, appearing just outside the front door. There’s a strange silence as they walk through the wood and into Molina house, a stillness that rarely takes the building. 

“Wait,” Reggie says, ducking into the lounge, “are we home alone?”

Taking a few steps into the house, Luke beams. “I think so. That means we can do  _ whatever  _ we want.”

“Yeah? Like what? We could watch a movie or something,” Alex suggests, hovering by the front door while the guys gather in the kitchen. 

“Or how about we like, try to bake something?” Luke says, more to Alex than Reggie. “Y’know, like a little treat for Julie when she gets home.”

Alex takes a few more steps inside. The idea doesn’t sound horrible, the logistics maybe, but he can’t deny how excited the boys seem at the idea. 

“Hey, Alex, didn’t you used to bake with your mom?” Reggie asks. 

“Like once or twice.” It’s been years, Alex thinks, years since he’d actually been that close to his mom. 

“Great,” Luke responds cheerfully. “You can be head chef.”

Hesitating for only a moment, barely long enough for the wariness to be caught, Alex says, “Yeah, sure, why not? Julie will appreciate it.”

Rattling off a list of the ingredients and equipment needed, the words coming from a long forgotten piece of his mind, Alex remembers how he was only ever allowed in the kitchen to help his mom a few times. Being a rather accident prone child didn’t stop him from watching, though, safely on the other side of the breakfast bar. 

The measurements are definitely off as his memory isn’t that good but it doesn’t matter. His chest feels a little lighter, his mind a little clearer as he and the boys manage to get a mixture that at least resembles cookie dough. 

Some teamwork made the process go faster but, as Alex is hugging the big mixing bowl to his chest to stir the dough together and he looks up, he realises it’s all over. 

“Reggie,” Luke says slowly, one hand half raised in instinctual defense. “ _ Don’t _ .”

“Don’t what?” Reggie asks innocently, the corners of his mouth curling upwards. In his hand is a measuring cup, filled to the very brim with flour. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Alex’s eyes bounce between the three--Luke, Reggie, the flour--knowing what will happen as soon as  _ someone  _ kicks it off. 

They’re each waiting on the other, heavy tensions weighing thickly over them, the standoff lasting a moment too long until--

Luke’s chest is painted white. The powder flies everywhere, coating his neck, showering the bottom of his chin with a fainter layer. He scoffs, looking between the mess of his shirt and Reggie, whose eyes are dancing with playful mirth. 

“You’re dead, Reginald,” Luke says, already digging into the bag of flour to slam a handful towards him. 

Alex side steps out of the kitchen area, the bowl and spoon never leaving his grip as he watches the petty food fight unfold. Safely on the other side of the counter, Alex laughs, cheers, and eggs on the boys as a combination of flour, sugar, and what might be a paste made from flour and milk, are thrown across the kitchen. 

Their indignant squawks could be heard for miles. 

That is, when a poorly timed throw meets a well timed dodge and, as Reggie manages to duck under the onslaught of flour meant for him, Alex feels the small slap against his chest. He looks down, finding a heavy handful of flour on his chest and a deadly silence takes the house. 

Luke and Reggie watch him with wide eyes--an apology resting on the tip of Luke’s tongue. 

It takes everything Alex has to not burst out laughing right then. Silently, he puts the bowl onto the bench, not slamming it as to let the moment simmer, let their mild panic brew into something bigger; and slowly,  _ so slowly _ , Alex reaches for the egg carton. Finds the biggest one. And  _ throws  _ it at Luke. 

It splatters amongst the other food already on him. Egg shell becomes stuck to his chest, yolk dripping onto the ground. 

Alex shoots him a challenging smirk. 

All hell breaks loose. More chaotic than in the ocean. From every angle it’s an assault of flour or eggs or milk, or all three, and Alex loses himself in it, forgetting that there’s anything else to think about other than  _ grab the last of the flour _ .

He can’t tell how long the food fight lasts but Reggie admits defeat quickly after being ganged up on, dipping out of the kitchen to allow Alex and Luke the most space. It becomes less for a free for all, then, and more a tactical battle, a strange amount of strategy going into each throw.

It takes an egg cracked over his head, yolk getting stuck in his hair, for Luke to give up, shamefully begging for mercy. 

Alex, just and merciful as ever, accepts. He wipes his brow from some dripping milk before it can reach his eyes. 

“Here,” Reggie calls, throwing a small hand towel to each of them. He’s already mostly cleaned, aside from a few stray egg shells littering his clothes. 

As Luke desperately tries to wipe away the egg in his hair, he whines, “Alex, you’re vicious.” But he’s laughing even as he attempts to sound wounded. “Seriously, where’s the love, man?”

Alex shrugs. “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he answers bluntly, reaching out to help Luke with the clean up. 

“I’m hurt, truly, you’ve cut me deep,” Luke continues. 

Alex ignores him, realising how every reachable surface seems to be covered with the remnants of food. 

Once clean, or as clean as he can be, Alex finishes the last of the stirring before finding an oven tray and baking paper in one of the various draws. 

“Come on, boys,” he says, reaching into the bowl of dough. “Let’s actually finish these.”

As quickly as the chaos came, it vanishes. Smoothly, as if nothing happened, the guys fall into line on either side of Alex, their hands fighting for enough dough to begin rolling the cookies into small balls. It doesn’t take long with the three of them, the tray quickly being filled with the chocolate chip cookies. 

Alex slides the tray into the oven, sets it to the right temperature and stands back to take in the complete mess they’ve made. 

“Right,”--Alex returns to his spot on the other side of the counter and takes a seat--“you better clean this up before Ray or Julie get home.”

“Hang on--” Luke leans over the bench “--you’re not helping?””

“Nah.” Alex shrugs. “Don’t feel like it.”

“Hey, you’re the one that threw an egg at the  _ ceiling _ ,” Reggie says, pointing at the exact spots Alex had been doing his best to ignore. “How’d you even do that?”

“Let’s not talk about it. I didn’t start the whole fight, so I shouldn’t have to clean it up.”

Reggie and Luke share a look, something Alex isn’t privy to passing between them too quickly for him to properly see it.

“Fine,” Luke says, rolling his eyes. “You just sit there and look pretty.”

“Already done.”

As Luke and Reggie raid the linen cupboard for mountains of dish towels to wipe every surface clean, Alex reaches across the bench to scoop up two unused wooden spoons. 

There’s been a tune scratching about in the back of his mind ever since he played that once in Caleb’s club--as much as Alex hates him, hates that place, he can admit when a song has a killer beat. It was  _ good _ . 

But if it’s going to be stuck in his head as a reminder of what he’s dones, then Alex will take that song, take the wooden spoons into his hands, and he’ll make the song _ his _ . 

The bench proves to be a poor substitute for his drums but it gets the job done. It gets the song out of his head, gets it flowing out of him as he beats the spoons against the counter.

Alex can’t help but grin as he notices Luke and Reggie jamming out to the tune, dancing around each other as they scrub the kitchen down. 

Somewhere between Caleb’s song and a new melody Alex’s been drafting, he realises the guys have finished, everything put away as if they’d never been there. He also realises that they’re staring, not critical or weighted, but...fondly. Smiling almost proudly as they whisper to each other. 

Normally, that wouldn’t have bothered Alex. But it doesn’t take much to figure out what they’re whispering about, what’s been happening today, as his friends have never been great actors in the first place. 

The entire day had been a ploy to cheer him up. 

He’s been so worried and freaked out about having to lie to his friends and their response is to  _ try and cheer him up _ ? Alex told himself he wouldn’t drag his friends in the mess he made until he could fix it, but here he is, bringing them into his spiral of anxiety. 

He can’t let them know, not now, not until there’s an easy way to explain “ _ I’m selling you out for my new boyfriend but not really _ .” Alex swallows the sudden flash of panic, swallows tightly and keeps it there. 

Alex sucks in a breath, blinking until he can pull himself from his thoughts. He doesn’t want to worry Luke or Reggie anymore than he already has. 

When he does so, he finds the boys deep in a debate and it barely takes him a second to know what they’re talking about. It’s one they’ve had many times since appearing in twenty-twenty. 

“Come on, what’s wrong with it?” Reggie whines. 

“What’s wrong with it?” Luke echoes, complete and genuine offence in his tone. “Other than everything?” 

Rolling his eyes, Reggie leans against the other side of the bench, diagonal to where Alex sits. “Music changes, dude,” he says, “and just because it’s older doesn’t mean it’s better.”

“Okay, sure,  _ but  _ the worst of the nineties beats everything from the two thousands.  _ Especially  _ all those pop songs you keep singing.” 

Ever since Julie came into the studio singing  _ Britany Spears _ , Luke and Reggie have been stuck in an eternal argument about the best decade for music. 

Alex definitely,  _ totally _ , isn’t sick of it at this point. 

Luke continues, shaking his head slightly, “Such a disgrace.” 

“Dude, it’s really not  _ that  _ bad,” Reggie says. He never gets as passionate as Luke does but still always engages in it. “Even Julie admits there’s a lot of bangers.” 

“What does that even  _ mean _ .”

Reggie shrugs. “Couldn’t tell you but I think it’s a good thing.”

“Hey,” Alex interrupts before Luke can retort. There’s a weird smell and he really hopes it’s not what he thinks it is. “Did anyone set a timer?”

“That’s your job as head chef,” Luke says. 

“Okay, cool, well, the cookies are definitely burning then.”

Reggie hurries and pulls them out, trying to fan away the rising smoke from reaching the smoke detector. The burnt and black cookies smell awful and rest on the counter, being stared down from three pairs of eyes. 

“Man, we suck at baking,” Luke says, poking the crisp edges of a cookie. 

“This one’s still good.” Reggie points at the sole cookie that hasn’t been completely burned. 

It’s good enough. 

The ruined cookies are hidden at the bottom of the trash can, and the single one remaining is plated and waiting in the studio for when Julie comes home from school. When she does, it’s been cold for a while but she doesn’t care, simply touched that they went through all the trouble. 

As she sits with them, happily eating the half burnt cookie, Alex sighs, admitting to himself that the guys’ attempt worked. However long it will last. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii, sorry for the wait lmao but it’s my last week at high school ever so like I’ve been busy having a breakdown. 
> 
> Chapter 4 may take a lil while cause exams are also starting next week and I’ve been writing for other fandoms, so sorry for any delay but it’s definitely coming! 
> 
> (Side note: if you like Knight Squad, there should be a fanfic for that coming soon if I get my shit together)

“Just don’t be late, okay?” Julie says for what feels like the hundredth time in the past five minutes, the millionth time since they got this gig, her worry is starting to become contagious. 

Alex represses the urge to sigh, putting on his most reassuring smile. “Relax,” he says, ignoring the voice in his head that’s telling him he’s marching towards his death, “I’m never late.”

From the couch, Luke calls, “Remember, eight thirty sharp,” head still burrowed in the journal resting on his lap.

“I  _ know _ .”

“And, Alex--”

Alex whips attention, sucking in a deep breath, only to find a teasing grin on Reggie’s stupid face.

“--have fun. Tell Willie I said hi.”

He lets out the breath he was holding, trying to release the growing unease in the pit of his stomach. It’s rather unfair that, even in death, he can’t escape his anxiety, but, at least, everyone thinks he’s just nervous about his “date” with Willie. 

He runs a hand through his hand, wishing he could wear his hat but Caleb always smacks it off his head when he shows up to the club with it--and Alex is far from the mood to deal with that. 

“Thank, I will,” Alex says, pressing his lips into a tight line. 

“But really,” Reggie adds, more serious now, “don’t be late. I don’t wanna deal with those two stressing out all night.”

Julie is quick to butt in with, “We won’t be stressing if you--”

Alex poofs away before she can finish, clinging onto the lingering remains of any smile or sense of being carefree. As soon as the Hollywood Ghost Club appears around him, his stomach drops, twists, and flips inside out in a sickening series of actions before he can manage to pull himself together.

The club’s still relatively empty, it being only around five p.m, and so finding Willie across the room is effortless. He’s engaged in a hushed conversation with Caleb but his eyes flicker to Alex the moment he arrives.

Getting the feeling he’s not wanted right now, Alex decides to head for his dressing room. He can’t think of a reason why Caleb would designate that room for him--mostly given the fact that he can only wear the suit given to him--other than to serve as a reminder of the career he could’ve had if the band hadn’t died. 

As he passes through the club, passing the other employees, mostly the band and dancers, chatting away happily, Alex greets them all with the same amount of cheeriness they give him--not remembering when he learned all their names. A distant part of him swiftly accepts that it must be some kind of Caleb’s magic, like the drumsticks, trying to make him feel more like a member of the club rather than a captive. 

Alex finds he’s not really bothered by that. He’s too tired. Let Caleb mess with his mind, there wasn’t much to start with that wasn’t already muddled. 

The pink suit is waiting for him. An omen of death, it feels like. But he slips into anyway, slips into that persona that Caleb so desperately wants, shedding his own skin as if his actions no longer are  _ his _ .

After a few minutes of pacing the room alone, there’s a soft knock at the door. Only one person would bother.

“Come in,” Alex says, feeling the tightness in his muscles lessen, just a pinch, as Willie pops through, clearly pretending as though nothing happened with Caleb before.

“Hey,” Willie greets, closing the gap between them in a few short strides. Almost on muscle memory, he leans in for a brief kiss, though Alex can feel the tension behind it. 

“Everything okay?” Alex asks, letting Willie be the one to pull back first. 

His smile is strained and doesn’t reach his eyes. He shakes his head, his voice a pitch higher than normal. “Yeah, yeah, everything is fine.”

Alex doesn’t reply straight away, waiting for Willie to fill the sudden silence. 

“It’s just… you would tell me if--if something was wrong. Right?”

Alex grimaces, smoothing his features once he catches himself. “Yeah, of course, I would. Wh--why do you ask?”

He wonders whether Willie is capable of  _ not _ being so open all the time, of  _ not  _ making every moment so intimate--the earnest look in his eyes, the slight bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. Even as his gaze flickers down for a heartbeat, despite the weight in his tone, Alex is tempted to indulge him in that glance, to ignore this conversation in favour of something much more fun. 

But Willie replies too soon.

“I can’t get over why you would come back here after everything with Caleb,” he says, voice low and cautious.

Alex shrugs. “Would you believe it’s because I like spending time with you  _ that _ much?”

Willie’s face falls with disappointment. “Whatever it is--”

“Can I tell you something?” Alex interrupts in a split second decision, having  _ no  _ idea where he’s going with it.

He’s quick to answer with a sincere, “Of course.”

Alex stops his wandering tongue. HIs moment of weakness fades and the instinct to lie takes over again. 

“I--I’m spying on Caleb.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind and he regrets it instantly. “You know, m--making sure he’s not planning anything.”

“Huh?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah”--he should not be doubling on this--“if he’s gonna try anything again, we wanna know so--so we can stop him.”

Alex is mostly sure that’s a plotline in a movie or something, it definitely sounds ridiculous enough to him, but Willie takes a moment to contemplate it, letting Alex simmer in his regret.  How easy would it be if Willie decided to call him out? That’s all it would take, Alex thinks, for his master plan to come crumbling. Though, no one ever pushes, no one ever thinks twice about his word. He always was trustworthy, but it feels more like a curse nowadays.

Willie’s brow furrows. “So, your friends know what you’re doing?” he asks. “That you’re here?”

“ _ Of course _ , they do”--and he’s a horrible person, no better than Caleb, manipulative and cruel and a  _ lying bastard _ \--“but--but you can’t let Caleb find out. It’ll ruin everything.”

“Right, yeah.” Willie takes a moment, collecting himself, almost trying to convince himself he believes Alex. “He won’t find out. I--I wouldn’t do anything that’ll hurt you.”

Alex wants to throw up, wants to expel all the lies and unworthiness and deceit from himself, and start again. Start from the beginning, when he wasn’t drowning under all his mistakes, his own decisions. He wants to call, scream,  _ beg  _ for help, to be saved and brought to shore.

But he has to save Willie first, save his soul from Caleb’s clutches, and he can’t do that with anyone stopping him from throwing himself head first into the deep end, into unknown danger. 

He can’t wait for someone else to fix this for him. Becoming a copy of Caleb is an unfortunate side effect--one that he’ll take. 

Alex gives his most believable smile, feeling a new wave of determination mixed with apathy, as he leans in to kiss Willie, hoping he won’t taste like the bitter lies on his tongue. 

“Now--” he pulls back, forcing himself to look Willie in the eyes “--I was promised a date before I have to perform.”

Willie takes his hand with a small grin, more relaxed than he was before, and poofs them away to whatever he has in store--none the wiser to anything Alex is planning. 

\--

The final beat rings out, what feels like the millionth song of the night, and Alex immediately shoots Caleb a look, silently asking the same question. He gets a begrudging nod in return, finally allowed a break. 

Alex poofs from the stage to Willie’s side in the crowd, falling into the offered hug happily, burrowing his face in the crook of his neck. 

“You killed it up there,” Willie says, pulling back only to keep his hand cupping the back of Alex’s neck, the sheer intimacy of the action making the drummer falter for a moment. But Willie’s smile, as bright and dizzying as ever, is impossible to resist, to deny. 

Alex grins back, brushing aside the exhaustion that’s settled into his bones. “One of these days, I’m getting you to play with me.”

Willie’s smile turns sheepish, a slight blush to his cheeks, and somehow even nervousness looks good on him--how unfair to Alex. “I’m not much of a performer.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Alex says playfully-- _ and I should know _ a traitorous voice in the back of his mind hisses -- “I’ve seen you dance before.”

“Okay, that’s different.”

“Is not.”

“It  _ is _ but maybe, one day.” Willie’s eyes soften for a moment, his hand slipping to hang loosely at his side, and he says quietly, “Not here, though. Somewhere better.”

“Any ideas?” Alex has plenty stored in his head. Back when he was alive and allowed himself to fantasise about his first boyfriend, he made a list of places he wanted to go, and now all he wants is to check off every single place with Willie. 

“It’ll be a surprise.”

Quickly, Alex throws his gaze to the large hanging clock, absentmindedly checking how much longer he has until he needs to leave to play with the-- _ his _ \--his band. His face drops as he checks it again and again, and again. 

“How is it already one o’clock?”

There--there’s no way he was playing for  _ that  _ long, that he completely missed the gig. Surely, he would’ve realised it, it’s not possible. It’s--

“What’s with all the commotion?” Caleb appears by their side, expression mockingly innocent. He knows Alex won’t dare say anything in front of Willie and sends him a quick smirk. 

“You know time’s a little--” Willie makes a few wild hand gestures “--weird here.”

Alex swallows, tying down his initial shock and anger far too easily. “Yeah, no, I know, it’s just--I should get going,” he says, trying to create some space between himself and Willie. “My friends will be wondering where I got to.”

“Oh, come on.” Caleb adds a little pout for emphasis. “Won’t you stay for another song? The party’s just getting started.”

In a rare moment of having a backbone, Alex shakes his head. “ _ No _ , I’m going home.”

Challenging Alex with his stare, threatening and strong, Caleb refuses to break eye contact first but Alex won’t back down. Not tonight. He has much bigger problems than Caleb being annoyed. 

After a tense moment, the older ghost sighs. “Fine, I’ll be generous and give you the night off but I’ll be seeing you soon.”

With that, he’s gone, vanishing into the crowd. Not that Alex could care where he goes, he’s just grateful to have one last moment with only Willie. 

“Do you really have to leave so soon?” Willie asks, his gentle eyes sweeping away almost all of the determination Alex once had. “This place is boring without you. And I miss you when you’re gone.”

“I miss you, too, but you can deal with Julie if you want to keep me around forever.”

Willie chuckles lightly. “She can’t even see me, let alone touch me.”

“Oh, she’ll figure something out,” Alex says, completely convinced of his words. “She can be very stubborn.”

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Excuse you, I am  _ not  _ stubborn.”

“You won’t stay the night,” Willie points out, his features alight with a teasing grin. 

Alex lets out a playful scoff. “And you won’t play with me.”

“Touché.”

Alex wraps his arms around Willie’s neck, pulling him close. The one thing he can’t get over about this time period is that  _ no one cares _ , no one pays any mind to the boys. Which means Alex can be as affectionate as he wants, as much as he’s been repressing all these years and no one will think twice. He’ll take full advantage of that whenever possible. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Alex promises.

“Tomorrow,” Willie echoes. 

Alex poofs away, the butterflies in his stomach for once representing something positive. He can still feel Willie in his arms, can still pretend everything is fine. At least, until he appears in the studio, slapped in the face with the reminder of his reality, the one he created.

Julie sits between the boys on the couch, legs outstretched on the table to rest her laptop on her shins. Her head rests on Luke’s shoulder, eyes closed in a peaceful sleep, blissfully unaware of Alex's presence.

Reggie and Luke, however, immediately snap their attention onto him, giving him barely a second to regain his composure. 

“Where were you?” Reggie asks in a hushed but demanding tone, gently moving from Julie’s side to stand up. 

Alex sighs, wishing he could’ve just joined the group without having to lie.

“I am  _ so _ sorry,” he says, and even to him it seems to fall flat. “I just--I lost track of time.”

He counts that as not a complete lie. 

“Alex, look,” Luke starts, careful not to wake Julie up, “we’re glad you and Willie are hitting it off.”

“But it just feels like you’ve been ignoring the band--ignoring  _ us _ ,” Reggie finishes. Vexation is a foreign emotion on him, he’s always been the most patient of them, but Alex has managed to find the end of that patience. What an achievement. “You’re late to rehearsals all the time and when you do show up, it’s like you’re not even there.”

“And you knew what tonight meant,” Luke says.

Alex runs a hand through his hair, keeping his emotions at bay, his guilt and self hatred out of sight. “Yeah, you’re totally right. I’m sorry, I lost track of time.”

“Yeah, you said that.” Luke’s brow furrows slightly. “You okay, dude? Did something happen?”

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

Moving back to rest on the arm of the couch, Reggie looks up at Alex, his expression as open as ever. “We’re ghosts, dude, we don’t get tired.”

Letting out a dry laugh, Alex can’t help but notice how standing here, looking down at his friends,  _ he  _ should have the power, the upper hand, because they’ll believe anything he tells them, and yet, somehow, he’s never felt this weak before, as utterly powerless as he is in everything these days. 

With a weak smile, he says, “Look at me go, defying all the ghosts rules.”

There’s a long pause. Reggie and Luke share a glance, silently debating whether they push further.

Alex quickly adds, “It won’t happen again, I promise. So, uh, whatcha watching?”

Reggie slides back onto the couch, curling into Julie’s side again, who only rolls her head onto his shoulder. “Star Wars.”

“I thought we weren’t letting him watch that,” Alex says to Luke, taking Reggie’s free side. 

“I need to know.” The seriousness in Reggie’s tone is enough to make Alex crack a smile. That is, until he turns to Alex and says, “Don’t be weird,” and throws his arm up, inviting him in. 

Alex hesitates. He doesn’t deserve the intimacy, the closeness after he’s been lying to his best friends for so long, and he doesn’t know whether he’d be able to stop the gnawing urge to spill his guts if he has to act so normal. 

But Reggie isn’t even looking at him anymore, returning his attention to the movie as he simply waits, expecting it as Alex shuffles closer.

It’s far more comfortable, Alex will admit, his head not quite resting on Reggie’s shoulder. As the movie plays out, he realises he joined far too late to understand the plot but it doesn’t matter. Reggie’s quiet commentary and Luke’s small cheers at every lightsaber fight make it easier to slip further in Reggie’s side--like how they used to--and start to relax the constant tension in his body.

That voice comes back, part way through the credits, that makes Alex want to cry. 

They played without him. 

\--

He can’t name the urge that brought him to Bobby’s house, standing in the middle of the open lounge without any sense of direction but, at the same time, he doesn’t want to leave. Alex isn’t here to mess with Bobby or anything, he knows that much--mostly because it’ll only upset Julie. 

And after having to apologise to her this morning after missing  _ another  _ important gig has left him with enough disappointment to last a lifetime.

He’s here now and so is Bobby, pacing the lengths of the room like a madman. Alex can’t help but wonder whether this is how he looks. 

Though, the muttering under his breath seems new, like incoherent thoughts moving too fast for him to articulate. There’s a crazed look in his dark eyes, shaggy unkempt hair swaying wildly with each step.

Alex climbs onto the couch, sitting on the back with his feet on the cushions. 

“You know what, Bobby?” Alex asks, catching himself waiting for a response. “I’ll probably never forgive you for stealing all of Luke’s songs but… but I think I’m starting to understand.”

He pauses, wringing his hands together as he tries to collect his thoughts for his unaware audience. 

Not entirely sure how he’s actually talking to--himself or Bobby--Alex continues, “I mean, you were in an impossible situation. We all just-- _ died _ and left you behind. I don’t think any of us are in a position to criticise you, we--we can’t understand what that must have been like. You just panicked, didn’t you. You make one little mistake and suddenly… everything’s snowballed into what it is now and you can’t go back and fix it. I get it.”

At some point during his speech, Alex had left the couch and joined Bobby in his stressed pacing, their footsteps in perfect timing with each other. 

Now that he’s closer to Bobby, Alex can start to make out his mumbling.

“--not real. They’re dead-- _ dead _ , you know that.”

Alex scoffs. “Still freaking out about that, are you?”

“They’re just holograms,” Bobby says. His shaky breaths are starting to come out more and more rushed, drowning under anxiety and fear. 

“Come on, Bobby, I’m tryna have a moment here.” Alex pauses where he stands, watching the man’s fretting. “Can we ignore your whole mental breakdown?”

At being ignored, Alex groans, absentmindedly reaching out to stop Bobby in his tracks. He--he  _ grabs onto Bobby _ . Fingers wrapped around his bicep, not moving through him, not existing in an entirely different plane, but  _ touching  _ a lifer. 

Mouth agape, Bobby stares down at where their bodies connect, fear flooding his features. 

“Well, that’s new,” Alex breathes out. 

They’re both frozen in place for a long minute, neither knowing how to react. Bobby’s entire body is starting to tremble as he finally tears his gaze from his arm, eyes travelling up to meet Alex’s.

“Bobby?”

“I’m so sorry.” With that, Bobby yanks his arm away, running as fast as he can away, stumbling over his own feet, leaving Alex unable to process what just happened. 

Did Bobby see him? Surely, if Alex could touch him, he should be  _ seen _ \--seen by someone other than Julie. He has to know for sure--he  _ has  _ to know. 

Alex is chasing after Bobby before he can second guess himself, footsteps pounding on the tiled floor. After forgetting he’s a ghost for a second, he poofs himself to the top of the staircase, appearing just as Bobby shoots over the last step. 

“ _ Wait _ ,” Alex begs. 

Bobby doesn’t react, running through him. Alex groans at the sensation, a shiver going down his spine at the same as Bobby. The man never slows down, skidding into the first room and locking the door behind him.

Alex only stares at the wood. He could easily step through the door but there’s no point. Even if Bobby could see him, what would he say?  _ Hey, great to see you again. How’s your life been? Being dead is really fun, let me tell you _ .

He leans his forehead against the door, closing his eyes. “You always sucked, Bobby, I hope you know that,” he says. It’s a lie. He used to really like Bobby but Alex isn’t sure how to tell the truth anymore. 

Standing there for a while, he listens to Bobby’s near sobs as he tries to convince himself he imagined. The sudden sound of a door slamming catches Alex’s attention.

“I’m home,” a feminine voice calls. 

Alex peers over the bannister, remembering that Carrie is Bobby’s  _ daughter  _ as she wanders through the mansion. 

“Dad?”

No response. 

Knowing that Bobby won’t be coming out anytime soon, Alex hurries down the stairs just in time to hear Carrie mutter to herself, rather sarcastically, “My day was great. Thanks for asking.”

“How was your day, Carrie?” Alex asks. 

She hesitates, her brow scrunching, almost as if… no, she couldn’t have heard him. Bobby, Alex can buy, but not her, not some teenage girl he has no direct connection to. 

But as Carrie starts talking to herself, Alex becomes less convinced. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I know Julie is talented and all but I just think all this special treatment is unfair.” Carrie fishes through the fridge to find a bottle of water. “I mean, if I didn’t sing for a year, there’d be nothing that could save my spot in the program but  _ no _ , she gets a million chances.” 

As she takes a long drink, Alex mentions awkwardly, “Well, her mom died, so…”

“I wasn’t treated like this when mom left.”

Oh. 

Alex tucks that piece of information away, wondering why Julie never even hinted at that.

The look in Carrie’s eyes isn’t sorrowful, isn’t vengeful, just… resigned. Tired. Something Alex can relate to--a sense that this is how things are and there’s no point in changing them. 

“Good talk, dad,” she whispers. 

Alex knows he shouldn’t be some kind of voyeur on this scene, that Carrie is only letting her mask slip in her own company, but he can’t find a good enough reason to leave, to abandon his curiosity. 

Carrie lets out a breath, her demeanour shifting as she exhales, back into the impassive girl Alex has been told she is.

He knows Bobby still remains upstairs and, while he could press further on that whole ordeal, the man seems shaken enough by his past sins enough. He offers nothing new for Alex to distract himself with. Carrie, on the other hand, seems to be much more intriguing than he originally pegged her to be.

She is Bobby’s daughter after all. There must be something more to her. 

Alex muses on that as he follows her through the house.  _ Daughter _ . Bobby got it all--the money, the fame, the family, everything all the boys had craved. Everything he could ever want, Bobby gained, through only the small payment of his bandmates’ deaths. 

Alex just hopes it wasn’t worth it. 

Carrie enters her bedroom and Alex almost follows behind her, if it weren’t for the fact she starts stripping before the door even closes. Respectfully and horribly uncomfortably, he remains outside until she emerges again, dressed in workout clothes. 

Continuing her path, Alex swears the massive estate has to be ending soon, but Carrie enters one final room. The entire area has been decked out into a dance studio, flooring to ceiling mirrors cake all four walls. 

Carries ties her hair into a tight bun, pulls her phone from her back pocket, and selects a video before placing her phone on the ground before her. 

Music floods the studio. Carrie’s face hardens into pure concentration, her body tense between movements but loose and flowing as she dances, never missing a beat. 

Alex can only watch, lost in a trance as she seemingly glides through the motions, graceful and gorgeous, and he forgets that he’s not meant to like it, or her. 

She goes through the entire choreography half a dozen times flawlessly and yet, she stills huffs a sigh of disappointment at the end of the song and restarts it. 

“Oh, come on, that was  _ perfect _ ,” Alex calls out as she falls into line. 

Screw it, he thinks, there’s no one here to question or judge it. Alex takes Carrie’s side, almost upset at the way she can’t accept her own success.

“Last time, alright?” he says. 

The music starts, Alex has already memorised all the moves by heart at this point, effortlessly in time with her, following her lead. 

It’s easy to lose himself in it, only having to focus on the beat and nothing else. He never had enough time to explore this side of him while he was alive, always trapped behind his drums whenever they went on stage. 

He’s not resentful of anything but--he can’t help but feel that he shouldn't have to come Carrie, of all people, to feel this free. 

By the end of the dance, posing behind Carrie as she breathes heavily, Alex barely notices how natural the grin on his face feels, how light his chest is.

Carrie watches her own reflection, her own critical gaze, a beat too long for it to be anything other than self-loathing. Alex would know that look anywhere. 

“Could be worse,” she says. 

“Give yourself a little credit.”

Whether she can hear him or not, Carrie finally seems satisfied by herself, and takes a break. 

Alex sits down next to her as she rests against the mirrored wall. “Ever tried  _ not  _ comparing yourself to Julie?” he asks the empty air. “I think Dirty Candy is amazing in their own right.”

Carrie takes a long gulp from her water, wiping her brow from any sweat. “I’m nothing if I’m not better than her.”

She blinks, as if she hadn’t meant to say that out loud, as she if hadn’t realised no one had actually asked her anything; and, god dammit, if the only other person that can sense him is Bobby’s daughter, a girl that hates Julie’s guts, then Alex is utterly screwed.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Alex says, silently begging for Carrie to hear him anyway.

Carrie clears her throat, realising she’s talking to herself and stands back up. Shaking her body out, releasing any tension, she starts the music again. 

Alex doesn’t join her this time, preferring to be an observer as Carries works herself into exhaustion, never stopping, never slowing, until she can’t breathe, until she can barely stand. But, even as she hunches over, hands resting on her knees, the look she gives herself in the mirror--full of spite and determination--feels awfully familiar to Alex. 

Neither can stop. There’s a force driving them both, a need to be free of the weights holding them down, suffocating them. And, like a pit in his chest, Alex knows he shouldn’t feel this close to a girl he can’t even communicate with, but he does and, in some way, they seem to understand each other. Though, Carrie may not know it. 

It’s more than he can ask of his friends right now. 

He’s drawn out his darkening thoughts by Carrie, her shoes squeaking against the smooth floor as she walks for the back wall, where a series of shelves sit lined with towels. She burrows her face deeply in one, covering it up by wiping away the beads of sweat travelling through her hairline. And, the smallest outburst of frustration Alex has ever seen, she whips it over her shoulder and lets it drop. 

Carrie rolls her shoulders back, systemically stretching every muscle. She inhales sharply, sounding dangerously close to a sniffle, but her clenched jaw doesn’t let anything else out. Carrie turns on her hell, ready to storm out. 

Alex sees it before she does. 

Her foot landing on the damp towel, slipping under her. 

Carrie would’ve gone tumbling face first if Alex hadn’t reacted without thought, poofing across the room.

For the second time today, Alex finds his hand wrapped around a lifer, holding onto them so tightly it’s like the only lifeline he has. He pulls Carrie back onto her two feet, quickly letting go when she flinches. 

Her chest heaves in a mixture of tiredness and fear, eyes scanning the room.

Grimacing, Alex says, “I’m sorry, I swear I’m not trying to scare you. Or your dad, for that matter.”

“Great, Carrie, you’re finally starting to lose it.” Her voice is hollow, completely emotionless as she picks up the towel and leaves the studio, leaving that encounter and Alex behind.

Alex only watches. He doesn’t have the mental capacity to  _ begin  _ to process this. 


End file.
